


Retention

by anonymousgratification



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 16:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18264785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousgratification/pseuds/anonymousgratification
Summary: At a Gala.





	Retention

The orchestra reverberates through the expanse of the room. Lights twinkle overhead, and the murmur of voices crowds the space. 

Dick makes his way through the room, stopping every so often for chatter as people recognize him. He performs eloquently, but jealousy is gnawing at him, needling over him at the attention a certain someone can’t stop receiving. 

He’s desperate. He’s filled to the brink with _want_. He wants Damian’s attention on him. He itches with the sensation for those eyes to focus on him and only him. For everyone else to fade away and never touch Damian or speak to him again. 

At first it was but a game; teasing and tempting each other throughout the night to see who would get more worked up by the end of the evening. But, the Gala started hours ago, and Dick can no longer concentrate on anything else. Damian has watched his father for years, and he’s always had a gift for imitation, but somehow he acquired the skills to charm and _smile_ at the guests and their inquiries. 

He finds Damian across the room, stuck in a conversation Dick can tell he doesn’t like. The subtly of his body language hints at exhaustion. 

Dick’s eyes roam over him. His suit defines every edge of his body, and he looks breathtaking, Dick thinks; but it may also be because he knows exactly what he looks like underneath, without the fabric encasing him.

A game. 

Dick and Damian have been dancing around it all night, sharing glances and touches that stay concurrently too long and not long enough, as they pass by one another. 

The smolder between them is incinerating his skin. 

Dick’s eyes sear into the side of Damian’s face. His body burns; the nerves under his fingers aching with desires to wrap around him and strip him of the curves of his suit, layer by agonizing layer. 

Damian’s eyes flicker over, and the look is as severe as the one Dick feels manifesting on his own face. He apathetically flutters his eyelashes at Dick. The man in front of Damian is speaking, and he really does look like he’s listening to his blathering, but Dick knows him well enough, and he can see the sparks of desire and agog in his irises, as his gaze lingers. 

Dick’s lips curve in a smile, a little enticing and a little electrified. Looking at him pruriently, Dick brushes his fingers through the locks of his hair and slithers them languidly down the side of his neck. Damian fixes his eyes on his hand as it travels, and he squints; discerning that he was caught in the trap. His head slowly tilts away— he doesn’t want to stop looking, but it’s a stratagem and Damian doesn’t like to lose. 

Minutes pass and Dick turns away when someone addresses him, and when he looks back Damian’s out of his line of sight. 

Dick’s vision swims around the room, and he finds Damian’s profile disappearing up the stairs. He casually slips away from the conversation he was beckoned into, and he trails after the dwindle of silk and umber. When Dick reaches where he disappeared behind, his eyes coruscate around the hall to confirm the vacuity. Almost knocking but deciding against it, Dick turns the knob to follow Damian into the bathroom. 

The door clicks into place, and he peers at Damian, standing above the sink. Damian’s eyes narrow when he hears the sound, but they soften again when he sees who it is. 

“Shadowing me, Grayson?”

Dick progresses toward him, and the faucet shuts off. Damian strides over the series of hand towels along the wall and dries his hands, folding the towel neatly when he’s finished. He moves back over to Dick, who plants himself in front of Damian. 

“Sure you weren’t waiting? The door was unlocked.” He slides his fingers beneath Damian’s lapel and holds him there. 

“Had to wash my hands,” he says, lifting an arm to rest over Dick’s shoulder. “The pompous are rather…sticky.” He crinkles his nose. 

“Perhaps you make them nervous.” Dick’s eyes dart to his lips. He clasps his neck and nudges his thumb into the ridge of his throat. 

“What about you?” Damian simpers, then tightens his face. “Everyone can’t keep their hands off.”

“Jealous?”

Damian hums and his fingers undulate over the bone of his jaw. “Her hands were on you way too long,” his voice lowers, like a secret. Dick knows exactly who he’s talking about; recollecting the touchy feely woman from earlier in the night.

“Fingers kept lingering on your shoulder,” he counters. Various hands coming in contact with Damian that didn’t belong to him flood his mind. “No one can keep their hands off you, either.”

Damian clicks his tongue. “I wish they wouldn’t. It’s unnecessary. And irritating.”

“You put on quite the show,” he teases. “You can’t even tell you are imagining severing their fingers.”

“I _do_ excel,” Damian smirks. His fingers slide backwards into Dick’s hair and then he’s shifting away, spinning around and leaning toward the mirror. He examines himself and secures a loose strand of hair.

Dick follows him. He pushes his body against Damian's, trapping him against the sink. His hands splay on both sides of him, and he leans in. 

“I think they like you a little too much,” he whispers. Damian's breath hitches just barely, but they are close enough that Dick notices the change in respiration. 

“They think I’m obtainable.” He meets Dick’s eyes in the mirror.

“And what do you think?” He places a kiss on his nape, positioning his head in the space between Damian’s neck and shoulder. 

“I think they are soporific.” He watches the reflection of Dick’s head moving as he places his lips against the side of his neck. “I’ve already been courted,” Damian says impassively. 

“Is that what you’d call it?” Dick lifts his head and snickers. “I think it’s more like…” He shoves him harder against the surface and Damian lets out a little huff. “You’re mine,” he almost growls.

“They don’t know that.”

“Maybe they should,” he whispers. He places his lips behind his ear and breathes over the skin. “Maybe I should take you right here. Make you scream loud enough so everyone downstairs knows who you belong to.” Damian shudders against him, and Dick starts to nibble on his ear. 

“I’m not a _thing_ to own,” he scoffs. “I don’t belong to anyone,” he continues, insisting, but his voice starts to waver. 

A light touch brushes Damian’s waist, and Dick’s fingers trail down the length of his jacket. 

“Hm…” Dick’s hand slides down and cups his groin. “What about this?” he asks, rubbing his cock. “I’ve had it in my mouth enough times. I think it belongs to me,” he exhales, blowing cool air against the sensitive skin of his throat. Dick’s other hand grabs at his face, holding below his chin and forcing his eyes to himself in the mirror. 

“You look so handsome,” Dick tells him. “How could anyone resist?” He leans Damian back against him, maneuvering his head to slant over his shoulder. His lips go against his neck, and his teeth etch into the flesh as he speaks. “I’ve been waiting to get you alone all night.” Dick squeezes him, placing another kiss on his nape. “Let me touch you?”

Damian bites his lip, slowly succumbing to the want that’s been torturing him all night; the feeling of Dick’s lips and fingers compelling him to yield. 

Dick keeps kissing his neck. Behind his ear, beneath his hair, below his jaw. 

Damian makes a frustrated noise and rolls back against him. The cling of his belt unfastening, and Damian wraps his fingers around Dick’s, forcing his hand into his open pants and letting out a relived sigh. Dick doesn’t hesitate. He strokes him amorously as soon as skin makes contact with skin. Damian always gets _so_ needy if he teases long enough. And they’ve been spurring each other on all night. 

Damian rubs himself back against Dick again, sucking is lower lip into his mouth and squeezing the counter so hard the skin resting over his knuckles stretches and whitens. 

“Fuck,” Damian grunts. His lips part to make room for the sound, and Dick stares at him in the mirror, watching contentment pigment his face. Damian reaches down again and hastily shoves his pants lower,  _just enough._ “Fuck me,” he breathes. “Hurry."

Dick tilts away and runs his hand down to the smooth skin of his ass. He squeezes and slips his fingers up between him, planning to tease him, but what he finds leave his skin inflamed.

Wet. He’s already wet.

“You’re prepared,” Dick says. His mind turns to static. 

“For later,” Damian tells him, trembling. “It was for later. I didn’t think you’d be so impatient,” he tries to jeer, but his words are breathy and it comes out more like a croak. 

“Who’s the one shoving his pants down?” Dick grins. Damian ignores him and shifts, digging a hand into one of his pockets and handing Dick a packet. He clenches his eyes shut and leans over the bathroom counter, bending down. 

“You really _are_ prepared,” he quips. Dick brutally holds his hips and pushes his body toward him. He rubs his bugle over the bare curve of his ass. "I’m already throbbing.” He grinds vigorously against him so he can _feel_ it. “You turn me on like you wouldn’t believe.” The resonance of his belt coming undone fills the room, and he’s shoving his pants down, too. _Just enough._

Dick places the packet of lube between his teeth and rips it open. He slicks his fingers and slides them up Damian with little resistance. He lays his hand over Damian’s back, holding him in place as his fingers massage into him.

“I’ve wanted you to touch me since we left,” Damian confesses, shoving his head into his arms. His eyes flit back to him, and green and blue coalesce. 

“Is this what you were thinking about when you touched yourself earlier?” Dick can’t get the image out of his head; Damian naked and preparing himself, with thoughts— _hopes_ of being fondled later. Damian nods his head above the counter, opening his mouth in a moan. 

“Did your fingers feel good?”

“Yours are better,” Damian says instantly. 

Dick loses his restraint. Dire need possesses his body, and he removes his fingers in a fluid motion and slips his hand back into the packet, tossing it on the counter away from him. He strokes himself as he glances down at Damian—bent over the sink for him, his cock trapped above the counter. 

Dick aligns his body, gripping Damian's hips and pushing in with less care than he should have. He holds Damian down, and desire and desperation exhort his body to thrust viciously. 

His cock pulsates inside him. He fucks him deeper. Harder. 

Damian starts to make all types of noises, and Dick leans over him to cover his mouth with his hand. “You don’t want anyone to _actually_ hear, do you baby?”

Dick slows down, circling his hips, intensely rutting deep into him. “Or maybe you do?” Dick hovers above him. He sets his forearm right next to Damian’s arms, and he bites at his neck, sinking his teeth into the space below the hair on his nape. 

“Wayne heir bent over the sink,” he goads, humoring a headline. Damian’s eyebrows furrow, yet his eyes glisten at him. Dick rubs his fingers over the cushion of his lips, then shoves them in between. Damian bites down, and Dick is enraptured by the sight— Damian is so  _full_ of _him_. _Everywhere._

“What would they think? If they found out just how much you love it when I split you open?” Dick moans at the image. He’s hot at the thought of it for some reason— at the notion of everyone finding out that Damian is _his._ Damian must like it, too, because he muffles a whimper into Dick’s fingers.

“Bet they couldn’t get enough of you. Bet everyone would cum in their pants at the sight of it.”

Dick tilts away and removes his hand from Damian’s mouth. He holds his hips again, and Damian clenches his fist and winds his lips over his knuckles. His other hand tightens around the edge of the granite, anchoring him.

Dick moves aggressively, his blood prickling with a sudden vehemence of jealousy. “But…” he pauses, panting. “You’re mine.” 

He lifts Damian away from the counter, reaching lower to grasp his cock. He rancorously twists his hand around his arousal and massages the slit with his thumb, the tip of his finger dampening with precum. Damian releases the hand against his mouth and rolls his eyes back to meet Dick’s. 

“Yours,” Damian promises, hissing and bitting down again when a whine emerges. 

“I’m the luckiest man in the world,” Dick says. He screws his hand up and down his shaft. "The only one allowed to touch." His hand tightens around the base of Damian's cock, then he slides it back around to his hip. He rams him back down into the sink and Damian's whole body slackens.

Dick loses control. He thrusts into him gravely. The world behind the door ebbs away in the haze of their lovemaking; their bodies tingling and trembling in tandem. 

Dick has to bite into his fist too, to muffle a moan of Damian’s name that’s eager to disenthrall. 

They climax together. Damian stains the surface below him, and Dick’s hips stutter as Damian clenches around him; and he cums, painting him inside with his essence. The savage and untamed part of his mind gets satisfaction knowing when they return to the party, and he looks over at Damian, he’ll be filled with him; a part of Dick rooted in the depths of his body.

Dick gently pulls out and hauls his pants up, zipping them and redoing his belt. He looks down at Damian— still collapsed over the counter, and Dick presses his fingers into his hips, urging him to spin around. Damian sits up and lets himself be led. 

When he’s in front of him again, Dick leans down. There’s a drop of cum trickling down the tip, and his body moves automatically, lapping up the wetness and placing a kiss above his cock. His eyes flutter up to Damian, whose cheeks are flushed; rubescent down to where his collar starts. Dick pulls his pants up for him, and Damian allows his doting; Dick fixing his clothes and tucking his shirt back in for him. 

He stands, and Damian’s arms wrap around his shoulders. Their lips softly push together. Dick’s hands cling to him, and he looks down at his precious prince as he pulls away. 

“ _I’m_ the luckiest man in the world,” Damian says, stealing his words from earlier. 

“How so?” Dick smiles at him, stroking his back through the material.

“Because,” Damian starts. He lightly places his fingertips over Dick’s cheek and traces his lips with his thumb. He lures Dick in with the sweetness, and Dick doesn’t even notice the other hand, slithering down his body. The hand stills between his legs, and Damian seizes Dick’s softening cock. 

“Because this belongs to me,” he says possessively. Green eyes pierce through him. Damian removes his hand and slides it up his chest, placing his palm atop his heart.  

“And this.” He stares at his hand, instilling the meaning in Dick’s ears. Dick's face warms at the ruthless way he says it. Damian’s hands are calm, but his voice and implications are impassioned; the severity of the words slicing Dick open. His body turns to lava under Damian’s fingers. 

“You’re mine,” Damian says, and it sound like an order. He brushes his thumb away from his mouth to his cheekbone, placing their lips together again. 

Maybe they both won. 


End file.
